Post-grunge is a sub-genre that has produced absolutely nothing of any lasting merit. From the horrendous Cobain-aping whine of Nickelback, to the paltry, watered down angst of Seether and the embarrassing mightier-than-thou disposition of Nickelback, it seems to be consumed exclusively by fans of WWE. Every band assembled under the post-grunge moniker lined up to offer their best Eddie Vedder impression whilst representing everything that grunge had so vehemently defined itself against. Puddle of Mudd, a band who are interchangeable with the likes of Creed, Seether, Staind or Everclear, continue to hold onto every last morsel of fame by breaking into 'She Hates Me' at any given opportunity. Once prodigies of Fred Durst, another has-been who should seriously consider hanging up his trademark red baseball cap for good, the group sit on a stylistic plateau of pure beige. The only thing imbuing the band with any cultural relevancy is the fact that whatever bland, characterless rock the band produce, by default it will become that year's WWE theme song.
